


딸기 pop

by writeiolite



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare-ish, Come Inflation, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Semi-Public Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Stomach Bulge, Stomach Deformation, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24944203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeiolite/pseuds/writeiolite
Summary: no better way to spend the summer than with your best friend, right? summer would be even sweeter if you were his girlfriend, but maybe you and bokuto have the same tastes after all.(ddalgi pop / strawberry pop — listen to strawberry by twice)
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Reader
Comments: 22
Kudos: 459





	딸기 pop

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted to my tumblr, writeiolite
> 
> [ ! ] if you want to use this fic in a reading video (like ASMR or smth), please dm me on tumblr and get my permission first

“Let me show you how this is done, baby girl. You’re so innocent that I just have to do everything for you right?… And you respond so well when I touch you here and… here. Ah, see? Such a good girl.”

Even the pause is filled with lewd wet sounds and a small moan that begs for more.

“So eager. I’ll take care of it, don’t worry. I know it hurts but I’ll make it _all_ better, baby.”

The perfect kiss follows that claim, one that takes your breath away and makes you clench your thighs together. You _really_ hope he doesn’t notice, trying to be discreet about how this is all affecting you so you can uphold even a little bit of your dignity.

“You warm?” Bokuto suddenly asks, clearing his throat while his Adam’s apple bobs. It’s difficult to see in the dark lighting, but the TV screen provides a glow that is bright enough to see how uncomfortable he is from this and dark enough to fool you into thinking he’s looking at you with a hunger for more.

He’s your best friend, of course, he’s not.

Bokuto Koutarou grew up with lots of friends. The guy was just naturally outgoing enough to make friends and followers, but he didn’t seem to realize. Being too absorbed in himself and his shortcomings made him admirable, apparently, but he viewed it more as… relatable.

There isn’t a person on Earth who’s perfect, but he damn well should strive for it. Every accomplishment is a taste of perfection that he can’t help but shout about. It’s a step closer to becoming the person he wants to be, the person he’s meant to be.

Some would tell him that’s as the ace player of a professional volleyball team, others would say he’s meant to be a volleyball coach. Or maybe even a PE teacher in general. He’s athletic and pretty in shape, so he can understand why those would be viable options. He’s considered all of them, but they aren’t exactly what he has in mind when he thinks of being the best.

He thinks of being the best friend.

Anyone can have lots of friends, but to him, that’s all meaningless if he doesn’t have at least one person he can consistently go to for everything. A present that he’d keep in his life forever and grow old with while telling the same old jokes and sharing the same old memories. He wants to be the best friend that can support someone else’s goals and be there when they feel like they’re falling short, always ready to reassure them.

That’s what he envisioned when he became best friends with you, though it’s been much of the opposite. You came to every middle and high school volleyball game and even tried to go to his college games too (when your schedules weren’t conflicting). You held his hand when you were kids and someone broke his arm and held it again when you were young adults and someone broke his heart. If he started posting something even mildly dreary on his spam account, you were the one to FaceTime him right away and help him through his troubles.

Really, the person he wanted to be ended up being _you_. You are his ideal best friend, someone that he looked up to growing up and looks up to now while you strive for your own goals and still make time to support his. That isn’t to say he’s done a bad job at becoming the person he’s envisioned. No, you’ve had such a great impact on him that he picked up a few things and proudly added his own twist to them.

He’s come a long way from a broken arm and a broken heart; now he’s working on a broken laptop. And even he knows that “working on” isn’t the right word for it — what he means is that he took it to a tech repair store and couldn’t go an hour without watching _something._ He can’t binge his favorite YouTube series, leaving him with no other choice than the DVDs under the TV stand that he’s never touched. Some of which he didn’t recognize, but you thought that those would be the _perfect_ ones to watch.

You were so wrong, but so right at the same time.

“It’s because you’re a human heater,” you huff, pushing the blanket the two of you were sharing off your legs.

Bokuto would love to follow suit because it _is_ getting warm, but he knows a bit of another problem he risks running into if he doesn’t have something on his lap. And this isn’t exactly the kind of trouble he’d ask his best friend to help him out with no matter how much you mean to him.

“Athletes are always warmer,” he defends, raising his voice to speak over the erotic sounds coming from the television. “I thought that’s why you wanted to wear my jackets all the time.”

That was definitely _a_ reason, but not exactly the only reason. You try to speak up over the movie too but it still affects you more than you’d like to admit. “Oh, whew, I was worried you caught on to my hidden agenda to slowly strip you down,” you joke.

Rather than going along with it how you expected, he does something you should’ve expected. He knows what you’re doing, so naturally, you should understand him too. Like every other unpredictable, flashy action of his, he pulls his shirt over his head with a proud grin, throwing the fabric square in your face.

“Like this?” He hopes it’ll ease the tension. Goofing off just a little usually always did the trick with the two of you.

“Bo!” You laugh immediately and throw his shirt right back at him, much to his relief. “I don’t want your sweaty shirt!”

 _Sweaty?_ His eyes round out and immediately he inspects his shirt, sniffing along the armpits. _What is she talking about? Unless I don’t notice because I got used to it…_

Your escalating laughter makes him pout, but it quickly turns into a grin when you get up to presumably get something. As if it were reflex, he twirls his shirt in both hands and whips it across your behind when you cross in front of him. A tiny peep leaves your mouth, but when you lose your balance, you land directly in his lap with such perfect precision he almost thinks you did it intentionally…

_Did she?_

_Oh no… oh no, oh no, oh no- this is_ _not_ _the time to be chubbing, Kou!_

_Please don’t feel it, please don’t say anything._

Luck must be on his side because you don’t say anything, but you also don’t move, too busy laughing at the situation. At least one of you can find this funny!

“Give me that,” you joke, shifting in his lap to reach for the shirt. He doesn’t even put up a fight, his face growing pale from the movement.

Growing up, you were never someone he was attracted to. Sure, as kids he thought he had a crush, but that’s just because you were _kids_ and he hadn’t been around a girl before. Now, there’s no excuse for him to be so flustered. It’s normal, right? Yeah, this happens to every guy and his best girl friend at some point.

_If only there wasn’t a space between those two words… wait, what am I saying?!_

The flimsy impact of the shirt being slapped against his shoulder, fortunately, rips him out of his thoughts, but the reality is even more… dangerous.

“Are you going to keep daydreaming or are you gonna fuck me?”

He chokes on his spit, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull. His voice is unrecognizable even to his ears from how strained it sounds. “W-what?”

“I _said_ , are you going to feed me? I’m starving,” you whine, but it _really_ has the opposite effect than what he wanted.

_Right, she wouldn’t have said that. Head. Out. Of. The. Gutter!!!_

“Y-yeah,” he chokes out. He understands what you mean by things being too warm under the blankets now. “Um, what do you want to eat? I, uh, I think there’s-”

“Hey,” you cut him off, your voice serious now and eyebrows pulled together in the familiar concern you always expressed for him over the years. And like always, you lean a little bit closer, your hand on his forehead. “You okay, Bo? Do you need water or something?”

 _Or something. At least we’re thinking of_ some _kind of thirst._ He can only dumbly shake his head, his heart pounding. You’ve always been so ridiculously beautiful, but maybe he’s been around you so much that he never noticed.

You purse your lips, those perfectly kissable, soft-

_Stop, stop, stop! Best. Friends. That’s all._

“It’s pretty stuffy in here so let’s eat in the kitchen. Ditch the movie,” you propose, offering up a light smile to take some of the tension off his spine. He sits up a little straighter when you get off his lap. In all honesty, he had forgotten the movie entirely, finding himself a bit more preoccupied with the roles in his head than anything else.

And for the next few days, graphic scenes just like that dumb movie played out in his imagination.

What would your kisses feel like? Would he fit perfectly between your thighs? How would your moans sound? They couldn’t be too much different from the little moans you let out when you’re eating something delicious, but what if you were moaning around his c-

“Ughhhh _focus!!!!_ ” He practically punts his pillow at the ceiling, lying flat on his back and not moving as the plush object falls back down to land on his face. Things were fine. He’s fine!

_Y/N is fine too-_

_No, no, no._

He tucked the horrid thoughts away with his erection and hoped the next day would be better. Foolish, really.

You came the next day.

Came _over_ — he had to correct his thoughts.

Things were pretty normal for the most part, he hoped. As far as he could tell, he wasn’t acting any differently! Sure, he’s far from being an actor and you have always seen through his lies, but he’s doing his best.

But _why_ do you make it so _hard_?!

“Watch this.” You snatch the cherry stem from his hand, take it in your mouth, and purse your irresistible lips once more until you can show off a perfectly tied knot between your grinning teeth.

Despite the way his heart did a small flip, he still raises a challenging brow at you. Little subtle brags like this were always the source of healthy competition between the two of you. It was never you two competing in the same thing, just the two of you showing off your respective talents and ending it the same way you always do.

“Where the hell did you learn how to backflip?!” Your peals of laughter make the words come out in various tones, but he doesn’t miss a single one. “That’s so awesome!! Imagine doing a backflip on the volleyball court or something.”

He snorts out his own laughs, holding his stomach at the visual. “I think I should! Who else can do that, huh? No one! I’d be the best backflipping ace in the whole volleyball world!”

He proudly jabs his chest with his thumb, making you laugh even more like normal.

“A whopping one out of one,” you hoot, your laughs mixing together.

“That’s good, right?!”

Just seeing your face get pinker with each laugh eggs him on more. The two of you are really going to be the death of each other at this rate, but he wouldn’t have it any other way, honestly.

“My number one back-flipper and ace,” you coo between giggles, your eyes still lined with mirth and tears.

Aaaand it’s back again. That foreign, tight feeling inside him, this time nestled between his lungs rather than between his thighs. Needless to say, his night was filled with more thoughts about you that he isn’t sure how to sort through.

If it were feasible, he’d do that thing… The one with the flower petals that you used to do when you were little (but he tried to eat the petals afterward). Only this time, he’s pretty sure that if he swallowed the love me/love me nots now, the butterflies in his stomach would flutter in a garden of happiness.

So he sighed out like a dumb boy in l*ve and dragged his hands down his face that night instead, wondering what exactly happened to make him feel so _weird_ all of a sudden. And not just all of a sudden, it dragged on for so _long_.

“Beach party?”

You nodded to him. “Yeah, you might as well. It’s the end of summer and everyone is leaving town this week.”

The summer went by too fast. Each long day was spent playing tug-o-war and he was losing more and more every agonizing hour. And from the looks of it, he’d probably lose you in the end too.

_I mean, that’s dumb, Kou. You’ll never lose her! She’s your best friend, after all._

Somehow that idea — which used to calm him down — doesn’t feel as comforting anymore.

“Let’s go, cmon,” you plea, tugging on his arm and giving him the best puppy dog eyes he’d ever seen. Ones that rivaled his own and would probably put his heart out of business at this rate.

_No, no, no, bad heart, bad!_

“Don’t worry about it,” he brushes his hand through the air, puffing his chest out and giving you a solid smile. “There’s no way I’d say no to hanging out one last time for the break.”

He’s going to miss Kuroo, Akaashi, Tsukishima, and everyone else, of course, but a part of him isn’t going for them. He’s going to see that endearing grin you always give him when you’re doing something silly, but most importantly for what he’s about to say.

“I actually wanted to tell you something,” he starts lowly, keeping his voice as steady as possible. He hasn’t felt this nervous since he first started learning volleyball, the feeling all too distant now, but he wouldn’t want to feel this way about anyone else. He didn’t get this feeling when he confessed to his ex, and for that, he’s boosted with a little bit more confidence.

When he imagined telling you, he hoped it would be somewhat romantic. That’s what you liked, right? It’s dumb, but even though he’s your best friend, he realized he wasn’t exactly the _best_ friend. He doesn’t know what your romantic interests are, he doesn’t know what your ideal second date is (because he’s aiming for at least two), and he doesn’t remember if you even enjoyed your first kiss in first year. Not that the last bit is important, but it would be helpful to have something to compa-

_**“Earth to Bo!”** _

He blinks out of his reverie. _Now. Focus on now. This is your moment!_

“I’m gonna go get ready. The party starts soon and I don’t wanna miss the drinks.”

_Oh…_

He smiles sheepishly, only managing to give a feeble nod while you dash off to your bathroom. His confidence deflating, he sinks back onto your bed with a defeated sigh. Maybe his summer went by so fast because he was preparing what he would tell you. To be honest, he doesn’t remember thinking about much else…

_Dumbass._

When you both finished getting ready (more so mentally for Bokuto), you were at the beach right as the sunset was ripping across the sky like orange peels. He drags his feet through the sand, sulking even while you’re shining next to him. And the worst part is that you’re not ignoring him — you checked on him multiple times in the car and told him you both could leave at any point in time if he’s still not feeling up to it after seeing anyone. You talked like you were his girlfriend, his _dream_ girlfriend, saying you both could come to a conclusion together and leave like you’re attached at the hip.

A best friend you truly are, but he would kill for more at this point.

 _Want to be my girlfriend? We should try dating? Would you want to go to dinner — romantically, though?_ All of those questions bounced and ricocheted off the walls of his skull all the way to the shore. There’s not a good time to ask, especially since he didn’t even get to tell you how he feels first… He’d love to ask in front of everyone, a big part of him wanting to show you off, but he knows that would just be asking for trouble. You could _very_ well reject him. You’re best _friends_.

“Do you need to get laid or something?”

Tsukishima, as crude as always, gets quite the reaction out of his older friend with that comment. It’s accompanied by Kuroo’s laughing and a snicker from Akaashi, but Bokuto really wants to sink into the sand. If only they knew.

“W-what makes you say that all of a sudden?”

Now Akaashi starts laughing with Kuroo, the latter mocking how Bokuto stuttered.

Tsukishima continues, “You look like you’ve been deployed for four years and miss your wife. And you’re terrifyingly quiet.”

 _Leave him, alone guys, he probably ate something weird before we got here_ , is what you’d probably say, but he couldn’t find you after a mere 10 minutes of gathering around the cooler and bonfire. He genuinely wishes he wanted to be here as much as you.

“I’m just a little worn out from the summer,” he whines in defeat, gulping down a swig of… _whatever_ fruity and fizzy concoction are in his cup. “Once things pick up again I’ll be good as new.”

The three other guys share knowing glances and mumble something behind their hands, but he doesn’t even have the energy to ask what it is. Instead, he spots you standing in the shallow water, watching you like a lost puppy as you kick up water with someone you must know from your college.

Maybe someone that you’re into. Someone that you came here to see. _God_ , _why do I feel like this?_

He just wants it all to feel better. This summer has felt like a cruel joke — one big rollercoaster that only he’s riding and he doesn’t remember getting on. Did this even start this summer?

_There was the road trip, hiking during spring break, the spa night, the-… What’s she doing?_

He stands up on his own, running off toward the beach before he even finishes forming conclusions. One second you’re going deeper into the waves with the biggest laughs he knows and the second you’re squatting down in the water even as the waves rush toward you. Pure instinct pushes his heels into the sand, unsure of what’s happening but god forbid he lets anything bad happen to you.

Like a hamster wheel, he doesn’t even blink before his thoughts go from all your loving memories together to the predicament in front of him. Everything comes to a screeching halt when he pulls you up slightly so you don’t get pimp slapped by Poseidon himself. And rather than standing on your own two feet, you slam your chest into Bokuto’s, your skin cool against his and arms tightly wound-

_Skin…?_

“Bo,” you whisper sharply in a high voice, “car. _Now_. Please.”

Blinking rapidly — maybe there’s saltwater in his eyes because he must be seeing things — he lifts you up by your thighs. You’re wrapped around him in one fluid motion, and he _swears_ he sees a familiar orange bikini top flo-

“ _Car_ , Bo!” you plea desperately, your warm face buried in his neck, your lips dangerously close to a certain soft spot you probably don’t know about.

He doesn’t hesitate further, carrying you off toward his car and ignoring the looks your shared friends send. Some he can’t quite decipher from how fast he’s moving, but it doesn’t matter anyway. His focus is _definitely_ elsewhere.

Anyone else would probably be aroused right now — hell, he should be shocked that he isn’t. His main priority is making sure someone else doesn’t see you like this. _Car, car, car- oh._

“Y/N, I don’t have the keys.”

You groan loudly right against his skin, holding onto him tighter. “Shit… Can you just run to the changing room? I’m sorry for making you run ar-”

He’s already whipping around before you can finish, taking the longest strides possible without bouncing you around too much. Even as his skin is burning and his heart is pounding, he lets his feet carry him wherever you’ll be most comfortable, your guardian angel without wings.

“This okay?” He asks, slipping into one of the men’s changing shower rooms. The dim lighting inside still manages to capture your best features when you finally look at him, his heart getting caught in his throat. Even now with your expression a mixture of relief and conflict you still have him drowning in a sea of soft emotions.

“Yeah,” you mumble, letting him set you down but not stepping away. Your feet are between his, the two of you almost chest to stomach, both of which are fluttering from the predicament you’re in. “Thank you…”

Taking you by surprise, he tilts your face up in his large hands to search for any other signs of distress that he could possibly fix. Whatever it is, he’ll do anything to wash away the expression you have right now.

“Do you want me to run back and get the keys? I can get my shirt from the car and bring it in here?” He’s trying to be helpful and suggest a good idea but somehow he can’t get the uncertainty out of his voice. And it _kills_ him — he just wants things to go back to normal.

Much to his surprise, you breathe a small laugh, your cheeks squishing against his hands and eyes creasing up a bit more from the added pressure. “No, I kinda wanna stay right here together.”

His heart is _pounding-_ pounding. Stunned for a moment, he thinks of every possibility of that phrase. _She wants… to stay here because it’s safer maybe? But why would I need to be here?_

_You know the answer to that, don’t you?_

He groans internally, pressing his hands into your face a little bit more until he finds himself laughing. It’s the perfect way to get him out of that headspace. The headspace that doesn’t just make him look at you like you’re the best thing in the whole world — you _become_ his whole world when his thoughts dangerously tangle like that.

“What are you doing?” he mumbles, narrowing his eyes skeptically with a foxy smirk. The smirk of a troublemaker, the one he always gave you when he wanted in your plans. For once, it’s a calculated move on his part, because he wants to gauge exactly what’s going on before he gets hurt. Even though every atom in his body is screaming that you would never hurt him, only his own foolish hopes could do that.

“Becoming human mochi, I think,” you manage to respond through his hands, something resembling a grin tugging at your lips. Oh, those lips…

He doesn’t laugh, his eyes locked in on one thing with such intensity that his mind goes blank and the air in his ears buzzes to a soft hum. All he wants is to act on his instincts like always, but what if he messes up?

“If I… If I do something rash, how mad would you be on a scale of 1-10?” He whispers, leaning his face a little bit closer to yours. Even with his mind plotting against him, his body moves for what _feels_ right.

You pretend to think, stalling his motions for nary a breath. “Depends. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten upset with you in the past, have I? What’s the worst you could do?”

 _Fall into unrequited love with you_.

Oh. _So I guess I am…? No. No, I’m not._

The conflict must be showing on his face because you snicker and bring your own hands up to cup his cheeks, smooshing them together much like your own. He should focus on calming his raging heartbeat that’s rattling his eardrums but all he really wants is to lean in, close the gap, and give himself some solace. As nice as it would be to believe you feel the same, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. _“Read the room,”_ Akaashi would probably tell him, but what if he’s wrong? _Damn this is so hard!_

“I could like, uh,” his cheeks are starting to burn in embarrassment now, so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “What if I made you lose your bikini bottoms next or something?”

_OH NO- MAYDAY MAYDAY! WHY DID I SAY THAT?_

His face morphs into horror, but yours is the exact opposite, grinning from palm to palm and giddy giggles slipping between your teeth. How you can laugh in this situation baffles him, but _god_ it’s contagious. His thoughts, as chaotic as they are, are instantly soothed by you like always, but he’s still buzzing with a nervous smile.

“Then do it,” you invite, sucking the air right out of his lungs with those three little words and leaving his mind setting off alarms. The panic sounds only get louder as you lean closer on your tiptoes, eyes hooded and _shit- is she about to do what I thin-_

He moves his thumbs over your incredibly kissable lips, leaning away just a little. He _can’t_ do it — not like this. Seeing how your eyes lose their flame is absolutely killer, but he’s had all summer to think about this moment. It’s going to go _his_ way.

“I have feelings for you, Y/N,” he cuts you off with the shaky announcement, dropping his clammy hands down to your shoulders. Like you’d disappear at any moment and he needs to keep you anchored — or maybe he’s the one that needs anchoring. The words begin to plummet from his mouth so fast that it’s definitely the latter. “I don’t know if you have any romantic feelings about me and you don’t have to return mine, I just wanted to be honest with you so that I can be honest with myself. I’m sor-”

“Don’t say that.”

No. Of all the ways to look at him… that hurts the most. Like he’s breaking your heart and he doesn’t even know what for. He can take a guess, though, and he doesn’t like it, but he saw this coming. The chains around his heart aren’t as tight now, but they’re still heavy — something that can only go away with time.

He doesn’t say anything, completely lost in a sea of emotions.

You, on the other hand, pull his lips into a forced smile, your eyes soft but still vulnerable. “Don’t be sorry about that. Then I’d have to be sorry too.”

The world just clicks into place again, aligning with Venus and Mars and moving like nothing could ever go wrong. Like it was meant to be since the beginning, you two being together. Bokuto didn’t have expectations for how things would go if you miraculously felt the same, but that makes this moment even sweeter, his gilded in gold and cheeks glowing in glee. You didn’t have to say it flat out for him to know what you meant — it’s just something that a best friend would pick up on.

A sigh heaves its way through his chest, relief finally crushing that chain around his heart so he can _breathe_ and wrap you up in his arms. This moment feels so much like… like soda that fizzles up loudly after being compressed for hours. Like his very first kill shot as the Fukurodani ace, one that he had practiced for over and over with you there watching. Only this time, you’re not supporting him from behind, you’re in this with him. The bubbles of excitement don’t calm, a grin splitting across his face and his heels bouncing up off the tile like he could launch into space and kiss Venus herself.

“You mean that,” he pushes you out of the hugs by your shoulders, “right? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

You snort and roll your eyes, every little thing you do making the mental list in his head grow longer. Reasons for why you’re his best friend, things he loves about you, the things he wants to _do_ to you-

 _Reel it in, Kou._ His grin doesn’t go away, though.

“If I wanted to make you feel better then I’d do something like… _this_.” You lean in, your hands — which he doesn’t remember ever leaving — finding his face again as you draw closer. He doesn’t even get the chance to prepare himself before you’re manipulating his cheeks how you want again, pinching them into another comical grin.

“I’m Bokuto, best ace and friend in the whole world,” you say, your voice deeper in an ugly attempt to mock him. The way he laughs makes your fingers slip off his face, but you continue anyway. “And I’m going to give my best friend the best kiss of her life.”

Finally, the fizzy bubbles sizzle down, leaving a tingling in his cheeks that he can only appreciate with a small part of his heart — the rest goes to you.

And then _finally_ , his lips go as well, following his heart and leaping right into what you both want, capturing yours with the same tenderness that the waves brush against the shore. It’s less of a kiss and more of a longing touch, but somehow it’s the perfect preface for what’s to come. His nose bumping against yours to ask for permission. Such a small, tacit action, but it spreads a giddy stream of excitement through you because you can almost _feel_ exactly what he wants.

Permission to love you wholeheartedly and clear the space between those two words he’s been latching onto and clear the distance between two planets that work in harmony. And you’re more than eager to give it.

The foamy, bubbly feeling must be mutual, because you finally mesh your lips together, sweet and fizzy greeting each other in a fit of fireworks and a rush of relief, something much better than any spike or some other tangible success. The only thing he can feel — the only thing he wants to feel — is your body against his as his hands smooth down your shoulders to loosely attach to your hips. Your own lace around the hair at the nape of his skull, the kiss quickly escalating into something more indulgent and rich, open-mouthed and earnest with the smallest hums of appreciation.

It’s perfect, more than either of you imagined, but that doesn’t mean it’s enough. Bokuto parts from you once again, his forehead right against yours as he drinks in the sight of your bare form with hunger burning so deep into his goldenrod eyes that they seem darker than you remember. All your years as friends and he’s never looked at you like _this_. You couldn’t be more obvious about how much it affects you either, tugging him back down to you so you can kiss him feverishly with your knee brushing up against his thigh.

That’s more than enough of an invitation for him, one hand searing under your knee as it latches on, pulling you right up against him like two puzzle pieces. And it’s _perfect_ — the small moan when his semi-erect length presses into your stomach is swallowed between your lips but it’s the perfect hint of how much you affect him.

Hands that were once locked in place travel curiously over his chest, something that you once only laid your eyes on but now he’s here and he’s _yours_. You don’t spare any greed as your hands take up the task of memorizing each divot of the corded muscles in his arms, up his shoulders, and down his abdomen until you’re both panting into each other’s mouths. Something like that wasn’t enough to make the two of you hot and bothered. No, it’s when you tug — _yank_ — on his swim trunks. He should’ve expected the action, but _god_ it’s so hot to see you craving every part of him without inhibitions.

Too eager himself, Bokuto doesn’t think twice before untying the strings that were holding your bikini bottoms together, denying you of what you want. “How long do you think we can stay in here?”

“Until the party’s over?” You shudder when he trails his hand up your inner thigh, his eyes boring into yours with mischief. “Don’t drag it out, though, dummy.”

“Hey,” he pinches your thigh and pecks your lips, the action feeling as natural as breathing. “I’m not _dumb_ , I’m just a little slow. And I think you’ll like it.”

The soft pads of his fingers ghost over your center, dragging your arousal up your clit and back down again. You hold eye contact with him, determined to seem unaffected so that he’ll give you more, but it seems to have the opposite effect.

For someone his size, he’s so gentle with you — nosing along your neck and leaving kisses as small as strawberry seeds down your collarbone and lower until he’s suckling one nipple between his soft lips. You moan in appreciation, a sound that goes to the base of his stomach, when his tongue swirls around the bud, laving over it until the sea salt is replaced with hot saliva and the slightest bit of pain from the teasing bit. You shoot him a look — _“Watch it”_ — but do you even realize how good you look right now? Your eyes flash with a warning but the rest of your face and your body are begging for more. You moan when he sucks the other nipple into his mouth, the sound rising in pitch when he nibbles lightly to get the reaction he was planning for.

It’s only when he pulls away and holds his fingers up to your eyes that you see his motives: the sticky sheen.

“I barely touched you,” he chuckles, voice huskier than before. Restraint — that’s the only thing you can pin it down to. “Your pretty pussy was made for me.”

You don’t respond, your brain short-circuiting because you _definitely_ remember telling him how much you love dirty talk, mentioning how disappointing it was that your ex used to suck at it. There’s not a single thing he doesn’t know about you, even as he kneels down and spreads you open with his thumbs to see you up close and bare for the first time.

“So wet,” he mumbles more to himself than you, delivering one long lick up your labia before the kitten licks on the sensitive bundle of nerves follows. You muffle the gasp with one hand, the other leaning on the wall behind you. It’s like he can read your mind, smoothly pulling one of your legs over his shoulder so you have to rely more on him than anything else in the shower stall.

It’s not enough and too much at once, the sight of your Bokuto “Bo” Koutarou nestled between your thighs with his eyes closed in bliss and mouth open to drink in everything you have to offer. Your whines are pressed right into your hand, encouraging him to take it further with you at the same steady pace. With one hand holding you in place, he presses the finger of the other hand up your entrance, spongy walls taking him in with such perfection that he groans around your clit like it’s his own pleasure.

He flicks his tongue up and down your clit faster and faster but he takes his time with his fingers, the motions almost not felt from the magic his mouth is giving you. Your head is starting to feel light, his finger curling every time he draws it out to hit the perfect spot in you, again and again until you’re rocking into his face for more. More is exactly what you get, another curled finger sliding in and scissoring you open while pressing right into your g-spot.

“Fuck,” you gasp, “Bo, that feels so good.”

He grins into your pussy, pausing the oral onslaught to thrust his fingers even faster. “I’ll mess you up, baby girl. That’s a promise.”

As if he needed to prove his point any further, his other hand gives a generous squeeze to your ass, hellbent on making you twitch on his digits more and more. Even as you rock against his hand, you can’t keep up with the head-spinning pace he set. Your hand isn’t doing much to hide the sounds of arousal slipping from your lips, and it certainly does nothing for the wet sounds between your pussy lips.

“ _God_ ,” he breathes over your core, “I’ve got so much I want to do to you that I’ve been thinking about all summer.” He doesn’t need to say more for you to whimper and seep more into his large palm, dripping just for him, because of him. It’s better than he imagined it being, each little motion you make so cute and needy as if you two aren’t about to have semi-public sex- _no._ He’s going to _fuck_ you, really ruin you as much as you’ve ruined him and then some.

“I want you to cum over my fingers, my cock, my mouth, my thigh, _everything_.” You clench around his fingers but he only spreads them further apart and adds a third. You cry out in ecstasy, fireworks definitely threatening to explode in your head and between your legs now. “So good… So wet and open for me. Think I can fit in this little thing? You take my fingers so well, but I don’t know if you can take much more, baby.”

You shake your head harshly, lungs closing up and almost rendering you speechless. “I can take it! I’ll be good and take it Bo, I know I will.”

“Take _what_?” The words come out as a growl, beast-like and threatening. “Big girls use their words.”

 _Fuck, that’s hot_.

You think that about his dominance, he thinks it about the way you clench so hard around his fingers that he almost has trouble pushing them back in even if he doesn’t pull out that far in the first place.

“I’ll take your cock all the way up my pussy, daddy,” you cry out, the hand that was covering your mouth fondling your own breast to mimic the pinching sensations he provided earlier, as if he was the one who first taught you pleasure. At this point, he’s the last person who will ever give you pleasure. This feeling is addicting and a brand of its own.

Pleased with your words (an understatement, really), Bokuto buries his fingers all the way inside you, curling and uncurling them right against that soft spot inside you until you’re crying and writhing before him. Even then he doesn’t stop, chanting for you to cum in that deep voice of his that only serves to make you run with the thoughts of him ordering you around like this later too. He practically pulls your orgasm out of you, the harshly satisfying taps within your walls from his thick fingers causing you to release _everywhere_.

He hadn’t imagined this moment being _this_ perfect, clear liquid spurting from around his relentless fingers and down his muscled forearm as you cry out that title he didn’t even need to ask you to say. _Perfect_. You’re just so perfect and he’s going to take complete advantage of that while he still can.

“Fuck, fuck, please, it’s too sensitive,” you whine, tugging on his hair as if that’ll make pull his arm away. It has quite the opposite effect, the sweet boy you grew up with hellbent on sending you beyond nirvana and back.

“You can do it,” he rasps out, thrusting his fingers in and out of you now, all three of them still being clamped down on by your orgasming walls. “We’re just practicing before the real thing. Are you quitting?”

 _That_ sounds so much like the silly competitions you two used to have, somehow igniting another flame in your core that he’d associate something so innocent with the sinful acts of tonight. That he even managed to make you think such a filthy thing when your brain is barely functioning in the first place.

Your thoughts burst into the air when his mouth meets your clit again, and you barely manage to shake your head again. “I’m not quitting!”

He hums against you, the vibrations pairing perfectly with the brutal pace he’s set up. It seems that fucking someone as muscular as him with the stamina of a monster is going to be your undoing. Bokuto’s never been patient, but right now he’s taking his time building you up and tearing you apart and you haven’t even gotten to see what you’ve been craving for… what, the whole summer? You can’t remember how long you’ve wanted this when he’s scrambling your thoughts and insides with just one hand.

“Good girl,” he chuckles, sucking your clit with as much fervor as when he had your nipples in his mouth. His hand is a blur between your thighs, reaching right where you need him and delivering you to heaven’s doorstep, one more push from complete bliss. He revels in how quickly you are to be brought to your high this time, his fingers almost slipping out from how wet everything is now. Maybe he could…

“Shit, yes,” he hisses, managing to fit a fourth finger in and stretch you out further. You whine above him, your leg almost giving out if it weren’t for his support. Just like he wanted. And now that he’s gotten you this far, he’s sure as hell not stopping. Bokuto likes winning, and he likes winning more than once. “Another,” he commands.

Your mouth feels like it might go dry from how it’s been hanging open this whole time but you barely choke out words from the saliva that had pooled in your throat. “Daddy, please-“

“ _I said another.”_ He slaps his hand against your ass, the flesh ricocheting and the impact causing your brain to rattle and explode in a fit of euphoria. You’re not sure what you’re saying, if anything, but it’s enough to make him groan out a stream of praises and curses, completely enraptured by how you squirt around him again. Could you get any better?

“More,” you whimper, rocking your hips out of rhythm with his fingers but it doesn’t go unnoticed. Apparently, the answer to his question is yes.

“Y/N, baby, you’re going to drive me insane,” he tells you, withdrawing his fingers and standing up straight. An arm around your waist keeps you from floating away or crashing to the ground, you can’t tell. Up and down are the same thing right now, but you can tell the difference between full and empty at least.

Your eyes feel heavy with bliss but you know you’re far from finished. The hardness sandwiched between your too warm bodies is enough indication of that.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he growls into your ear, grinding his length into you. You whimper almost helplessly, but your hands move on instinct, completely drawn in by him and compelled to please the man above you. And he _loves_ it, seeing you reduced to pure instinct and struggling to pull his swim trunks down because your brain is mush and fingers are trembling.

He helps you push them down and grabs your wrist, eyes searing into you as he guides your hand where he wants you. He’s throbbing in your small palm, leaking pre all down the shaft at this point. Just from getting you off? You can’t tell if you held in the moan or not with that passing thought.

“Good girl,” he coos in your ear when your hand moves up and down, barely able to wrap all the way around him. Even in this state, you can tell he’s much bigger than what you’re used to. “I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

He kisses the top of your head sweetly — as if he isn’t about to rearrange your insides and probably carry you out of here, but it still sends a shudder down your spine that makes you a bit more lucid. And with that advantage, you _almost_ manage to kneel before him like he did for you, only for his hand to loosely rest around your throat. The look he gives you is what really holds you in place, but the message is still there.

“Later. I _need_ to be inside you. You can do it, right, princess?” He watches you nod with liquid lust threatening to leak out of your eyes. “Are you sure,” he taunts, “I don’t know if you can. You barely handle a little fingering.”

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, pulling back just as fast so that you practically chase him to finish what he’s started. But that’s exactly what he wants, grinning proudly as he stands with his back straight and looks down at you with so much love you almost forget that your hand is slick with precum and pumping him with dedication.

“You want me to fuck you but you can’t even reach me for a kiss?” he asks like it’s a genuine question, eyes large with curiosity even when he’s quite literally belittling you. Yet somehow, that only makes you wetter. “I don’t know, Y/N.”

“Fuck, Bokuto, don’t mess with me right now,” you snap, your voice much more of a whine that you intended. And again, that’s what he wants. He lets out a familiar laugh and smacks your ass once more before harshly turning you around.

“Okay, _little girl_ ,” he snickers about the pet name, “let’s see if you can take it.”

In truth, he isn’t sure if _he_ can. God, you look so tiny bent over for him, his cock resting on your behind and still managing to dwarf you. _Will_ he fit? He chokes on a groan when he slides the mushroom head of his cock through your arousal. If you weren’t so tight he’d probably slip in right then and there, but he knows he can’t be so reckless with you. Not yet at least.

Taking him completely by surprise, you attempt to sink back onto him, a gasp leaving both of your lips when you can _barely_ squeeze the tip in. His hands grip your entire waist, trying to hold you in place even though you seem to have some sort of personal vendetta against your clamping walls.

“Y/N,” he hisses, sweat beading on his forehead. “ _Stop_ , shit, you’re too tight.”

“Please, please, I want it so bad. I-I _need_ your cock, daddy _please_!”

That just about does it, his restraint slipping down a cliff and crash-landing at your feet. “You’re asking for it…”

He lets go of your hips, completely mesmerized by how you work yourself back and forth, easing him in and splitting you apart. Your head is spinning and your legs are threatening to give out, but _fuck_ it feels good. The deeper you push, the more you want. And he’s _definitely_ larger than any other guy you’ve fucked, your little insides stretching further apart to greater lengths than you can ever remember achieving. You can’t tell if he’s bottomed out or not but you feel _stuffed_ , fists balled up against the tile wall and toes curling.

But it’s not enough.

Without warning, Bokuto starts to slowly pull you back against him even more, nearly forcing himself in if it weren’t for how your greedy pussy sucks in two more inches. He lets out the breath he was holding, definitely on cloud nine.

“We’ll have to work on fitting the rest in next time, baby,” he breathes.

 _The rest?!_ You hang your head down and moan, expecting to catch a glimpse of where you two are connected but all you’re met with is an obstruction.

“B-bo…”

His grinds his hips into you — a warning.

“ _Daddy_ ,” you whimper, “fuck I can _see_ you in my stomach.”

You must be exaggerating — there’s absolutely no way. Bokuto _knows_ he’s well endowed, but not to that extent. But when he slides a hand around your body to feel your lower abdomen, his balls clench, dick pulsing inside of you and you can feel _every_ little movement.

He lets out a dark laugh. “What’s up with that, huh? I’m literally about to break you open and you’re only getting tighter.”

“You’re too big,” you counter, out of breath.

“Then _why_ are you getting turned on more and more?” As if to prove his point, he draws his hips back just the slightest and is bet with more resistance than he’s ever felt. “You tiny little angel, I can feel you pulling me back in. And-” he presses his hand against the bulge his cock is creating, a cry leaving your lips “-you’re getting off to this. I don’t think I’m the problem here. You’re just a little cock lover. Nothing wrong with that!”

You’re apparently shaking your head but you can’t really tell with how far gone you are just from the pressure on your belly.

“No? Then _what_ , Y/N?” He pushes forward again, snugly against your cervix and making you cry out. The movement is so minimal but it takes everything in you to stay on this plane of existence.

“Maybe I’m too small, you were right,” you manage to admit, stars across your eyes and the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter as he rocks his hips back and forth slowly.

He groans at the confession — _damn right you are_ — and begins to deepen his thrusts. Your walls move with him, clinging to him when he pulls out and he _revels_ at the sight. You’re dripping all over his cock and he can see it in the dull lighting, just like he can see how your body begs him to sink deeper into you, and he’s not one to deny you anything.

One hand stays on your hip to keep you steady while the other plants firmly on your stomach. He drives his length into you with reckless abandon, finally having stretched you out enough to move with ease. Well, as much ease as possible considering you start cumming around him again and nearly prevent him from pulling out as much as he’d like.

“Fuck, even your pussy’s made for me,” he sighs out through gritted teeth. “You want me to fuck you harder, baby? Can you take it for me?”

“Yesyesyesyes- oh my god!” You don’t have control over what comes out of your mouth now, be it words or moans or anything else he manages to push out.

He digs the heel of his palm into your stomach, the sensation felt right against his cock and ripping out moans from his throat too. He speeds up, unable to control himself any further when you give yourself up to him so wholly. Whether you’re standing on your own or relying on the hand under you doesn’t matter — right now you’re floating on cloud nine and being thrown between two storms of violent pleasure.

“You’re so good, princess,” he grunts, snapping faster and faster against your ass. It’s probably turning its own shade of pink that matches your face. “You _love_ being fucked like this, I know you best, _fuck_ , I love this pussy.”

Of all things, you should probably feel ashamed from such lewd words.

“You’re my best friend but here you are taking my cock like you’ve been begging for it all these years, baby.”

You should tell him you only started having these feelings recently.

“I’m gonna cum inside you- _shit_ you keep getting tighter!”

You should beg him to cum on your face like you usually do.

But instead, you nod and babble along to every word, begging him to _fill you up_ and give you what you want because he’s so right and he’ll take care of you better than you can take care of yourself. That’s what best friends are for — to take care of each other through _everything_. Especially during sex so mind-blowing that you cum just from hearing how hard he’s cumming, hot spunk flooding you just like you wanted and being pushed deeper each time he slams his hips into you. White takes over you in every sense of the word, inside and out until you’re left with a drooling mouth and pussy, both of which are gaping when Bokuto finally pulls out.

Even his knees feel weak, one of them nearly giving out if it weren’t for his hand catching onto the shower handle. It switches a steady flow of lukewarm water over the both of you but it’s just what you needed. He stares dreamily at the sight: his beautiful best friend bent over, ass and pussy a heavy shade of pink and his cum dripping from between your legs — which aren’t working just like you predicted. The only reason you’re still “standing” is because of the hand under your stomach, which he proudly notes is still a little bit inflated. Hot.

“Let me clean you up,” he mumbles, brain still fizzling with his orgasm. As gently as possible, he uses his hand to wipe any of the cum away from you, the water getting a little bit warmer and soothing the soreness. You’re coddled into his side after a moment, kisses and praises pressed into your head while he makes sure the both of you are only soaked in water and not sin.

“You’re incredible, I mean it,” he breathes, earning a hum from you. “Lift up your feet one at a time and hold onto my shoulder.”

You follow his instructions until you feel the familiar fabric from your bikini bottoms around you. And with you still clinging to him, he does the same for himself.

“I’m usually better with aftercare,” he starts, “but I can’t exactly do as much here…”

“It’s fine,” you finally speak up, surprised at the scratchiness. You both pause to look at each other, and Bokuto does nothing to hold in his boisterous laughter at your expense.

“Sorry, sorry,” he attempts between laughs, “I promise I’ll make it up to you. Just wait here and I’ll go get the keys!”

He doesn’t give you much of a chance, slipping past the curtain of the stall just halfway before he stops. “Wait, are you gonna be okay to stand here until then?”

A pointed glance at your legs and you raise a hand, swinging with your full strength to smack his shoulder. “Fuck you,” you whisper, cheeks burning for a different reason now.

His laughter echoes off the walls even as he jogs out, dead set on finding the keys, his shirt, and hightailing it out of there. Each step is another away from the dreamlike state he was in and closer to reality. Did that _seriously_ just happen?

 _Good job, but also, what the fuck were you thinking?!_ If he wasn’t nearing his group of friends, he’d most definitely slap his own cheeks as some form of punishment for irrational ideas and actions. That’s one thing you always got onto him about that he’s learned to control better, but clearly not enough.

“Leaving already?” Akaashi is the first to ask, pink and orange flickering across his face from the crackling bonfire.

“Yeah, Y/N’s not feeling too hot,” he rushes out. _Please don’t notice, please don’t notice._

Much to his relief, they don’t question him while he grabs his lanyard, only wave him goodbye. It’s only once he’s out of earshot that they all look at each other with knowing glances.

“I’m sure he did a _lot_ of feeling,” Kuroo pipes up with a grin. Tsukishima laughs behind his bottle.

“He’s the worst liar I know — if you can even call him that.”

If he had heard those words, Bokuto probably would’ve defended himself a little bit before sulking, but he has other priorities — like getting you out of the shower room with other beachgoers inside.

Seeing a couple others makes his heart grow wings and fly out of his chest, dread filling up the space it leaves behind. There’s no way you can get out now, but he can’t leave you there by yourself. He wants to help _somehow_!

The best he can come up with is the obvious choice: glancing around for wandering eyes and then slipping behind the closed shower curtain where you’re waiting for him. One look is enough for him to no longer meet your eyes, offering up the t-shirt from his car to you instead.

 _“I’m sorry,”_ he whispers, the words being breathed right into your ear when you finally get his shirt on. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Maybe with a date or two with better movies, but for now, you can settle for something better than that.

You shake your head and then bury it into his chest, your arms around his familiar figure in a much softer manner than before. But it’s perfect in its own way. With him, you don’t need anything over the top. You just need him and the security and love he’s always provided. And whether he realizes that or not is something you can help him discover over the next years _together_.

Because what are friends for, right?

**Author's Note:**

> [read more fics, talk to me, and show support on my tumblr.](https://writeiolite.tumblr.com)
> 
> [ ! ] if you want to use this fic in a reading video (like ASMR or smth), please dm/inbox me on tumblr or comment here and get my permission first


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